May the Punishment Fit the Crime
by Rowana Renee
Summary: Set in episode three season one: what if Will Scarlet had been captured by the sheriffs' men while trying to escape with the others in the forest? Will he survive long enough to have another chance or will the sheriff use Will for his own purposes?
1. Chapter 1: Going Down Fighting

~_May the Punishment Fit the Crime~_

_~Chapter One: Going down Fighting~_

It had looked like they were going to make it, like they'd outrun the dogs and then be able to regroup and come up with a plan of some sort to get themselves out of this mess, like they'd all be able to cheat death again today. They were running as fast as they could through the forest and could hear the dogs yowling in the distance behind them. At some points it even sounded like the noise was getting further away. They might even be able to stop for a short breather if they made it just a little farther, a little deeper into the woods, then they'd be able to catch their breath and take off once more, preferably in a different direction so as to at least slightly confuse the dogs and their masters.

But it was far too soon to hope they'd make it out of this _entirely _unscathed, wasn't it?

Will closed his eyes for a moment, panting with the effort of keeping up with the others; he was much younger than they were and therefore tired more easily. Now, were they a few several years older than they were then odds were he'd have more energy than they had, but they were all at the peak of good physical condition and Will had a few more years yet before he reached quite the level of stamina that the older men possessed. Still, he was going to give them a run for their money while he was getting there.

And he was doing fairly well as it was, at the moment. Robin was just a short distance ahead of him, though that wasn't terribly much seeing as how he, Will, was at the very back of the group. Still, it was good that he was managing to keep up so well, and he was beginning to look forward to the time when they could take a break.

Unaware of doing so, he accidentally ran a little ways off to the side of the otherwise straight course he'd been following. He felt a vague sense that something wasn't quite right, just for a moment, before he felt something hard beneath his left foot and a snapping noise reached his ears, followed by a sickening crunch and a horrible pain in his leg. And then he was on the ground so suddenly that he couldn't remember falling, the speed at which he'd been running carrying him straight down and making him roll a short distance until the chain that the trap he'd stepped on was attached to-which kept it firmly anchored to one spot to prevent prey from wandering after being trapped-ran out of slack and he jerked to a stop, screaming at the sudden pressure that was applied to the wound in his leg.

Robin heard the scream, somewhere in his subconscious, but adrenaline kept him running for a good distance before it really registered in his mind. He came to an abrupt halt and turned around to see what had caused the scream, his blood turning to ice when he saw Will writhing in pain on the ground about five yards behind him. He quickly reversed his course and ran to Will, dropping to a kneeling position beside him and pinning him down by the shoulders.

"Careful," he said, "What happened?"

Wills' face was already deathly pale, and his eyes were closed tight shut in pain. He wrenched them open and blinked rapidly, tears welling quickly even though he was obviously trying not to cry. He gestured lightly with one hand, pointing to something Robin couldn't see. "P-poachers," he gasped, "Didn't see the...trap..."

Robin glanced down and grimaced at the sight; Wills' left leg was bleeding rapidly, a steel, spiked bear trap clamped firmly in place around it, the teeth penetrating deeply, embedded a few inches into the bone and thus making the removal of the device very difficult indeed. But Robin wasn't about to let Will know that, he flashed the boy a grim smile. "It's not too bad," he muttered, "It might hurt a bit, but I'll get it off and then I'll carry you the rest of the way."

Will scowled at that, the thought of being carried even more disturbing to him than the current pain in his leg.

Well, that was a good sign, Robin thought. If the damage was terribly bad then odds were Will wouldn't show any sign of displeasure at the idea of being assisted in such a way. He glanced up to see some of the others returning slowly, looking at him with slight curiosity and unsure whether he wanted them to approach or keep running. "John!" he called "I need your help! The rest of you, keep going! We'll catch up!"

That done he returned his attention to the bear trap, however before he could so much as touch it he felt Will move slightly and realized with some annoyance that the lad was trying to sit up. "Be still," he hissed, pushing him back down and carefully taking hold of each side of the trap, "This is going to hurt..." he murmured, looking over and making eye contact with Will.

The young Scarlet closed his eyes again and hesitated, but didn't need much more in the way of motivation than the sound of the dogs' barking getting closer. "Just do it." he said quietly.

Robin nodded and, after a moment of trying to work up the nerve to actually do anything, tried to wrench the jaws of the trap apart. Will groaned and jerked a little, but for the most part tried to be still and quiet. The trap didn't budge.

Robin tried again, a little harder this time, and still the trap held fast. He looked at Will again, shaking his head slightly and grimacing at the look that came over the boy. "Maybe John can-" he was interrupted by the dogs' baying, not far away at all now. But John had drawn level and was noticeably concerned as he saw the bear trap-and the amount of blood that was coming from the injuries.

Robin nodded toward Will and looked imploringly at John. "Can you-" but John was already pushing him aside, pulling as hard as he could on the trap but only managing to move it a little while Will finally had to give in and allow himself an agonized scream as the wound was aggravated further, this time worse than when Robin had attempted to pull the device free.

The dogs were close enough by then that their howling was almost deafening; they were almost upon the trio.

Robin and Will both cast John desperate looks, and the giant gave a frustrated growl before moving to where the trap was anchored to the ground by the chain and then pulling on it fiercely, still to no avail.

Will took a deep breath and looked up at Robin, his eyes betraying both severe pain and a new, calm sort of look. "Just leave me." he said.

Robin shook his head and winced as John tried again, still with no result. "You know we can't do that," he began,

Will glared as more howling was heard, this time not so much in the distance as just barely out of view. "If you don't they'll kill you. Besides," he continued, pausing for barely a moment to steady his voice as a near sickening wave of pain washed over him, "The hunters, they might get distracted for a few minutes, might pause long enough to finish me off. That'll give you back a little time."

John glanced uneasily at Robin, not entirely sure what he should do.

Robin sighed helplessly. "I can't just leave you to die!"

Will shifted a little at that. "I've still got that axe..." he mumbled, "I can still give them a fight."

Robin thought it over for several seconds, finally forcing himself to agree; he knew there wasn't a single thing he could do at this point. Moving before Will could he removed the small axe from its holder and handed it to the lad, noting that it looked almost like a toy, considering what Will would be up against. "I'm sorry..."

Will shook his head. "Don't be...just...tell dad that..." he trailed off, so Robin finished for him.

"I'll tell him you took a good few of them with you."

Will nodded and, after a moment, looked quickly back at Robin, his eyes flashing strangely, with humour or madness Robin couldn't quite tell. "And tell him it was knights," he pleaded, sounding almost childlike, "Not a bunch of dogs."

Robin allowed himself a grim smile at that and grabbed Wills' hand gently. "I'll tell him that." he promised.

The first of the dogs appeared over the crest of the hill they'd been running down not long ago and Will glanced at Robin again. "You'd better go." he said, and when Robin and John hesitated his tone changed a bit, "Now!"

Robin hugged the boy gently and then followed John, running to catch up with the rest of the group.

The dog approached quickly, not seeming to fear the axe Will was holding as it drew nearer and nearer. Will swiped at it but it leapt back in time to avoid contact with the small weapon, then it began circling. Will swept the axe around again, this time catching the beast just as it was about to sink its teeth into his forearm.

He glanced up at the ridge where the dog had come from, only to realize that there were about twenty streaming toward him, along with several soldiers. He sighed and wiped the axe off on the ground, staring straight ahead with a resolve to fight as hard as he possibly could, until he couldn't go on any longer.

He was going to go down fighting if it killed him. Which, ironically, it would.

* * *

So, not to sound like a n00b or anything but please don't kill me if the personalities aren't quite right; I've only seen the first three episodes of this show but I'm somewhat of a Will Scarlet geek and Harry Lloyd is the best Will Scarlet I've ever laid eyes on, so I couldn't contain my fangirl madness and wait until I'd seen more episodes before doing a fanfic. Anyways, I hope you guys like the turnout on this one and please, don't hesitate to give me pointers on their dialogue/mannerisms. I desperately need them. (All I know so far is Will=Quiet/adorable/crafty/follower, Robin=cutie/goodshot/protector/defender/romantic/leader but really...and yes, this is set in the third episode of season one XP I'm that pathetic ^;^


	2. Chapter 2: A Wolf Among the Swine

_~Chapter Two: A Wolf among the Swine~_

Rolf du Vard squirmed uneasily as he felt the prickling sensation in the back of his neck, his eyes slowly drifting to one side so he could see his watcher through peripheral vision. His hand gripped the handle of his spear a little more tightly and he could feel a trickle of sweat running down his back; he wasn't used to this. The prickling sensation became stronger and the tiny hairs on his arms stood straight up, his heart beating faster than it should and reasonless fear stabbing through him with each quickened beat.

But then, why shouldn't he be uncomfortable? After all, he was being watched in a rather menacing sort of way by a person who shouldn't even be able to lift their head for exhaustion right at the moment. It was disturbing, even more so when the damages to that person were really considered. The watcher sat in the corner of a small cell, one leg stretched out in front of him and bent at an odd angle starting right below his knee- the bone was badly broken and the trip that he'd taken to arrive in the cell had made it worse- and the other was being used to prop up one arm while the other hand was pressed against the floor. His hair was slightly matted with sweat, yet was also looking a bit windblown. More disturbing were his eyes; bright, vivid green with darker streaks around the pupil and with a look of sadness hidden within them, overlayed by pain, fury, and, to the nervousness of the guard, absolute calm.

It was like being watched by a wolf. A dark, silent wolf that was just waiting for a chance to kill.

And it was unnerving.

The boy never blinked, never moved. He just sat there, staring at the guard as if his gaze alone might burn a whole through the mans' soul. He must have been in severe pain, what with the broken, mangled leg, but showed no sign of it besides the betrayal in his eyes. Finally a door opened and Rolf was given brief respite from the unyielding stare as the boy turned his head to watch the entrance of another man, this one tall and menacing, with dark hair and even darker eyes.

It was Sir Guy of Gisborne.

Rolf snapped instantly to attention, staring straight ahead and waiting for Sir Guy to come nearer before bowing his head slightly. Here was a man to be respected.

And then the stare was back on him and he felt chills go up and down his spine. He closed his eyes for a moment and heaved a sigh; it seemed that this prisoner had every intention of making him suffer.

It was fair though, he thought. After all, it wasn't as if the prisoner wasn't going to suffer more, not just to a level that would make him uncomfortable, either. But rather, he was most likely going to suffer to an extent that would have him begging for death before the end. Rolf only wondered how much it would take, after all, it wasn't an easy task to make an unwilling wolf cry.

* * *

Will wasn't afraid, he really wasn't, and that surprised him. No, strangely, he was more annoyed than anything else. His broken leg was hurting him, he was locked in a cell, and he had no idea what was going to happen to him. It was irritating. He knew he should probably be frightened, after all the jailer here was known for being particularly cruel; a man who enjoyed inflicting pain. And yet, he was mostly just annoyed that he was stuck here, completely helpless against whatever these people wanted to do to him.

He'd also been bitten several times by the hunting dogs, who'd swarmed around him and come fairly close to ripping him apart before their masters had realized that, aside from the little axe that he was wielding against the hounds, he was defenseless. After they'd gotten the dogs after him they'd held him down and pried the bear trap off before tying his hands together and making him walk back to the castle with a small group of the hunters, the rest of them continuing after Robin.

And they'd taken his axe.

He'd known they would, but still. He'd liked that axe, it was his weapon and he felt almost naked without it. It wasn't fair. Not to mention the fact that the better part of the trip here had been spent by him being dragged along the ground by that rope, finding himself unable to walk very far with his left leg in the condition it was in. That had been painful and humiliating, adding to his extreme annoyance.

And now here he was, in the corner of the cell with absolutely nothing to do. He was certain that he could have handled it if he had something to fiddle with, to feel like there was something he could do about the situation. But no, they'd left him here, alone with his thoughts and a guard that seemed a bit like he himself needed guarding, and he was helpless.

Of course, that didn't stop him from giving the guard the most menacing look he possibly could, wanting to convince him that no, he wasn't actually at the mercy of whoever decided to do something with him, and he was actually just biding his time until the right time to act came. He was good at lying with his eyes, he soon discovered, watching the guard become more and more nervous, fidgeting constantly and continuously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He was distracted for a moment as the door crashed open, admitting none other than Guy himself. Will allowed his gaze to follow the man for a few moments before forcing his eyes to become riveted on the guard once more; not wishing to make Guy think he even the slightest bit interested in whatever was about to happen. No, for all Guy was going to know Will honestly didn't care at all.

Until he realized that the man was right beside him, uncomfortably close, his breath hot and- at the same time- chilling against Wills' neck. He suppressed a shiver and slowly turned his head a bit to look at the man, noting with a touch of curiosity that Guy looked just a little disgruntled, as if he didn't even want to be here.

"You work with Robin."

Will met his gaze evenly, his eyes sparking with barely concealed hatred. "And you work with the devil." he replied softly, the faintest hint of a challenge in his voice.

Guy scowled at that, but wasn't about to let himself be pulled into an argument with this boy. "The one time you were caught stealing food your father lost a hand in your place," he said.

Will flinched just a bit at that. "He wouldn't have had to if not for-"

Sir Guy silenced him by starting to speak again. "And you haven't killed anyone either, so we can neither cut off a hand nor hang you."

Will shrugged a bit at that. "Sorry to waste your time then, Sir."

Guy glared at him. "However," he snarled, "For talking back to your superiors you have merited the removal of your tongue."

Will felt his eyes widen a little before he could stop the reaction, and he mentally cursed himself for allowing that sort of fear to show.

Guy smiled at him, a strange sort of glint entering his eyes. "Luckily for you, however, the sheriff has pardoned you for that particular offense. Which means that you've been brought here for no real reason. You're free to go."

Will frowned; there had to be a catch. There was no way on Earth that he was just going to be allowed to leave. "After what?"

Sir Guy punched him.

Will, caught by surprise, yelped and kicked with his good leg, hitting Sir Guy in the stomach. Hard.

Sir Guy stood up with a triumphant look, although that was sort of dampened by the fact that he was still wheezing a little from the kick. "Assault of an Earl," he purred, "Twenty lashes."

Will blinked, tilting his head a bit to stare up at Guy in confusion. "That wasn't-"

Guy glared down at him victoriously. "Or the sheriff could reconsider that pardon."

Will sulked inwardly; either way was bad. Having ones' tongue cut out would hurt, the resulting wound could get infected, it could result in death. Having twenty lashes would hurt, the resulting wounds could get infected, and it could very well result in death. But, on the off chance that the victim did survive, they would still be able to speak.

"Fine then..." he mumbled.

Sir Guy nodded and began to retreat. "Very well, the flogging will take place at dawn."

Will glowered at him.

Sir Guy shrugged. "Stop looking at me like that, after all, the punishment does fit the crime."

* * *

Uh oh, how is Will gonna get out of this one? Sorry if I went overboard on the "Will is so hawt and wolfish" bit XP But he IS! Lol...*Coughs* anyways...again, I apologize if the personalities are off. And yes, Rolf is going to be mentioned a few more times in this story; he's got a job to do at some point in the plot. AND, remember the scene in the episode "Who shot the Sheriff" when Will does that darling little "I made you a tag" scene? Well that's going to be involved eventually as well. Also, next chapter contains mind games and my favourite, whump. (Poor poor Will...*Sniff*) anyways, yeah, I hope you all like it and special thanks to: ALICAT259, your feedback really helped! ^?^


	3. Chapter 3: Into the Nothing

_Chapter 3: Into the Nothing_

_Into the nothing, faded and weary  
I won't leave and let you fall behind.  
Live for the dying, heaven hear me,  
I know we can make it out alive._

Will groaned to himself as Sir Guy left him there, alone again in the dark except for that guard who'd served to entertain him to a degree before. Well, at least he had something to think about now. Even if it wasn't something pleasant, it was something. And that was more than he'd had before. Who was he kidding though? He was terrified! The only thing close to what he was about to go through that had ever happened to him was when he'd been switched by one of the sheriffs' men for touching the mans' horse when he was eight. And he was fairly certain that that particular experience was preferable to what he was going to go through as soon as the sun began to rise.

He gave a frustrated growl; there was nothing he could do about this and he knew it. He was right where the sheriff wanted him. It was like being told not to blink or finding oneself unable to breathe; completely maddening. Fury flamed in his eyes and he looked around for something to manipulate in any way; be it a scrap of wood or even a rock, he had to find something to do with his hands or risk honestly losing his senses.

He spotted a small scrap of something lying on the ground a short distance away, closer to the door of the cell. If he was careful, maybe he could reach it without straining his injured leg too much. He leaned forward, stretching his fingers as much as he could, then realized that he wasn't quite close enough to grasp the object. He sighed and pulled himself forward a bit with one hand, dragging himself closer to the...bit of metal, he realized. It was a small piece of metal. That was even better than a scrap of wood, if he could find something to scratch with it. He could try to make something. He finally managed to grab it and sank back into his former position heavily.

Bringing a searing pain to his left leg and, in return, a shriek of agony from him.

He quickly clamped his mouth shut, already knowing that the guard had heard him. That was just unfair; it was humiliating enough that he'd been reduced to crawling around a cell for a scrap of metal as means of entertainment, now he'd shown weakness in front of what was, to him, one of Satans' henchmen. But he knew better than to question whether it could get any worse. Instead he satisfied himself glaring daggers at the young guard.

Once he felt that his gaze, were it a knife of any sort, could have sliced the poor man to ribbons he set about finding something to do with the bit of metal, searching through his pockets for anything that hadn't been taken away by the sheriffs' men. At last he found what felt like a bit of wood and he withdrew it from the pocket, turning it over in his hands several times. It wasn't much at all, really, but with a little work he was sure it could turn into something.

With a forlorn sigh he set about scraping the metal against the wood, eventually closing his eyes as his mind drifted away and he became part of the steady rhythm that was created by the action. It was calming to do anything that resembled, even only slightly, the trade he'd learned from his father. And then a voice dragged him from his reverie, forcing his eyes open and drawing from him a nearly animal snarl of annoyance.

"Does it hurt?"

* * *

Rolf had watched the exchange between Sir Guy and the prisoner with mild interest. He couldn't say that he knew much about these things, but he couldn't help but overhear what was being said and, if asked his opinion- which he wouldn't be-, he would have said that it didn't seem quite fair. He'd decided that he felt a bit sorry for this prisoner, who looked rather like a caged wolf when Rolf could see his eyes. He could tell that this particular person wasn't used to being completely at the mercy of whatever someone else willed for him. And that earned him sympathy. Although Rolf would never admit it.

He watched the boy as he began hacking away at piece of wood with a tiny bit of metal and vaguely wondered why on Earth he'd be doing that, as well as if he should stop him. But after a few moments he noted the calm that replaced the slight desperation that he'd seen moments before, when the boy had been trying to get to the metal in the first place. However, he also noted that the boys' hands were completely steady despite the fact that he was so obviously in pain, if that scream a few minutes ago was anything to go by. But that led him to wonder, was the boy in pain? Or did he have some way of ignoring it so entirely that he didn't recognize the feeling at all anymore. And that question prevented Rolf from staying quiet for very long.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

The boys' eyes flew open and he gave Rolf such a menacing look that the young guard actually gulped, suddenly very glad that there were bars between him and the prisoner who looked so ready to tear the first thing that came near him to shreds.

The boy in the cell regarded him with a look of something between utter loathing, curiosity, and carefully masked sarcasm that bubbled just below the surface. "Does what hurt?" he muttered.

Rolf couldn't believe it; how could this fellow honestly not know what he was talking about? But then he realized, a bit too late, that the sarcasm wasn't being masked at all; he'd just assumed that it was. "Your leg; it looks like it would hurt."

The prisoner blinked. He seemed to have a mental debate with himself for several seconds before he nodded slowly. "It does." he grated, sounding like it was agony itself to admit it.

Rolf turned to face him, more interested now that he realized that the prisoner was willing to give a reply of some sort besides glaring at him. "What's your name?"

The prisoner raised an eyebrow. "Not for you to know."

Rolf tilted his head, his interest piqued. "I'm called Rolf," he began.

The prisoner interrupted him before he got any further. "How old are you?"

Rolf started in surprise; he hadn't expected that. "I'm twenty."

The prisoner nodded several times, rather slowly. "I never would have guessed." he said in a tone that clearly announced that this conversation was over. It only figured, Rolf though, odds were the boy was going to die at any time within the next week, he probably wanted to be left alone with his own thoughts for a bit. Still, Rolf was curious about him, and wondered if he'd have the chance to learn anything about this particular prisoner before his time was- as it inevitably would be- up.

* * *

_The grass had never been quite so green, nor the morning quite so fine. Her eyes narrowed in laughter as she watched her small child run about, without worry or care. The warmth of the sun seemed to have reached her eyes, her laughing, smiling eyes. They were about as blue as the ocean, sparkling with pleasure as she observed the boy. Her hair was long and ebony, falling just below her shoulders and held away from her face with a small, wooden pin her husband had made for her. It was carved to look something like a butterfly. _

_She laughed aloud as her son ran toward her, only to topple forward as he overbalanced and then look around several times as if he didn't know how he'd come to be on the ground. His hair was dark brown, like his fathers', still fluffy and clean from the bath he'd had the night before. His eyes were large and green, the colour coming from his mothers' father, she thought. _

_He stood up and shook himself off, grinning happily and hurrying toward her again. He was already babbling at her before he even came close enough for her to hear. When he finally did reach her he began to look rather pleased with himself, offering her a tiny, green plant that he'd found. _

_"S'a four leafed clover!" he announced proudly. "Daddy said they're lucky!"_

_She laughed at that and picked the lad up, placing him in her lap and hugging him. "They are, Will, very lucky." she whispered to him._

_He beamed at her and handed her the clover, still smiling. "Now you're lucky!" he giggled, tilting his head back as far as it would go so he could look at her._

_She chuckled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I already am lucky," she said, "to have you."_

_He blinked sleepily and snuggled a little closer, the warmth of the sun starting to tire him. He opened his mouth to speak, but then the world became black and blurred and there were cruel eyes leering down at him. His mother was nowhere in sight and all that was left was the guard, waking him from a peaceful slumber and jerking him back to reality, leaving him once again motherless, half-orphaned, and renewing the sense of loss that had followed the actual moment of her death and had stayed with him ever since.  


* * *

_

Will coughed as the guards' foot came in contact with him again, this wasn't Rolf, no, this was another, bigger man who seemed intent on making him as miserable as possible on the short journey to the gallows-stage, probably hoping to have him crawling by then. As it was, he was managing to maintain an at least somewhat dignified hop, trying to keep any weight off of his injured leg.

That didn't stop him from yelping in pain when he was forced to his knees on the hard platform. He bit his tongue to keep silent and tried to find something to focus on besides what was about to happen, anything at all. Like the fact that his father wasn't here. Well, he wasn't sure if that was good thing or a bad thing. Sure, he didn't exactly want his father to see what was about to happen, but then he wasn't sure that he didn't want his father there for at least a bit of comfort afterwards.

He felt like he was underwater, listening to the sheriffs' voice as the man announced what was about to happen. Twenty lashes, he said, but it was more than that. It was a challenge to Robin, no doubt. It was also a way of saying, _I don't care if I actually catch you at what I'd love to hang you for, I'll have my way with you yet! _

Will would have dearly loved to have said something to the sheriff, just to irk him a little before he had his few moments of victory. That would certainly be better than just kneeling here, waiting. But then, wishing had never really gotten him anywhere before. Maybe one little jibe wouldn't hurt, might help to lessen the pain of what was coming. Yes, that was right, it couldn't do any harm to anything but the sheriffs' pride. And that was worth it indeed.

He drew breath to speak,

And then the whip descended against his shoulders and his world became one of fire and pain, and he didn't even know what he would have said, had he been given enough time before being plunged into the nothingness that was the scourge.

* * *

A/N: MUNCHKIN!WILLY! Did you guys expect that? No really, did you? Or that level of angst? Isn't Rolf WEIRD? My muses keep arguing with each other, otherwise I would have added this chapter last night. As it is...ah well XP And yes, every three chapters there's going to be a small section of song lyrics to kind of narrate the overall mood of the happenings, that sort of thing. BAHAHAAA! And yes, there is "Will misses his mummy" in this. A lot. ^?^

Another fun thing for you guys, QUESTION OF THE THREE! (Every three chapters there will be a question asked. I hope you answer it)

What's your favourite song?

Mine's "Breath" by Breaking Benjamin ^;^


	4. Chapter 4: Sometimes we must Fade

~_Chapter Four: Sometimes we must Fade~_

His eyes were tightly closed, his head low and his face locked in a pained grimace. He was trying hard not to scream, the agony of what was taking place threatening to overwhelm him. He groaned quietly, gripping his head in his hands and, if possible, closing his eyes even more tightly. He could hear pounding in his head, like drums of war or the knocking of some evil spirit on a door of some sort. Probably the door to a torture chamber, if his current situation was anything to go by. He heard a piercing scream that seemed to come from nowhere, and Robin sat bolt upright, staring around the small clearing in horror.

He let out a sigh of relief as he realized that he'd been having a nightmare. Again. But, regardless of the repitition, it was still just a dream. And that meant that it wasn't real. Still, that didn't stop the guilt from choking him, nor did it take the visual of his fallen comrade away, nor erase from his imagination the sights and sounds of what must have taken place after he'd left the boy alone to face the horror that had pursued them through the forest.

He closed his eyes again, heaving a deep breath and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Will..." he muttered, "I shouldn't have let that happen..."

Robin was laying on a blanket in the middle of a small forest clearing, surrounded by the rest of the gang of outlaws. They were finally getting a break from constantly running from the sheriffs' men, and from the villagers who also thought that Robin was suddenly a saviour turned murderer. He'd planned on going back to Locksley, but they'd been forced to detour so many times that he wasn't sure if that would happen or not.

Besides, now he wasn't even sure that he wanted to go back; the prospect of telling Dan that he'd gotten the mans' oldest son killed wasn't exactly a pleasent one. He was dreading it like nothing else, wishing that there was some way of avoiding it but knowing that he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to let the man think his son was alive, probably hoping that the boy would come back for a visit eventually, when he himself knew full well that that was never going to happen.

He jumped slightly when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, looking up to find himself staring into the face of Little John. "You're awake?" he said quietly, "You should be getting some sleep; we have to-"

John rolled his eyes and sat down next to Robin, giving him a look that a father might give a son. "We could go back, you know."

Robin blinked, confused. "Go back? Go back where?"

John shrugged. "Go back to where...where it happened...he might have gotten away yet-"

Robin snorted in disbelief. "Only if the sheriffs' men opened the trap for him...or if those dogs-"

John shuddered at the thought, glaring sideways at him. "Alright, well even if he didn't he could still be alive; it wouldn't hurt anything to go back and find out before we tell Dan...and if we go back and he really is...gone...we could at least give him a proper funeral, you know? It's better than sitting here wonderin' about it..."

Robin nodded slowly, sighing again and looking almost fearfully at John. "And after that," he said, knowing that the chances of Will still being alive were slim to none, "What do we tell Dan?"

John closed his eyes for a long moment, finally opening them again and giving Robin a solid stare. "We tell Dan that Will went down fighting."

* * *

Will couldn't suppress an agonized moan as the eighth lash fell on him, ripping into him with all the force his tormentor could manage. He'd long since given up trying to remain silent, noting somewhere in his mind that this did _not _mean that the sheriff had won this particular round, only that he was playing along because eventually he was going to have a secret plan of escape, he just hadn't thought of it yet. Or at least, that was what he was trying to tell himself.

The ninth blow drew a pained scream, making him gasp and claw at the hard stone of the platform, trying not to notice the fact that there was blood running down his arms from the many wounds in his shoulders and upper back, nor the fact that his hands were so pale that it looked like there wasn't any blood left in them, or the fact that he was shaking like a leaf in Autumn.

He vaguely noticed a shadow falling across him, and two feet that entered his field of vision, but he tried to ignore them, closing his eyes and pretending he was somewhere else. Until he heard the voice, of course.

"You could make it stop early, you know."

Will looked up a bit, wincing at the pain caused by the motion. "What?" he whispered

Sir Guy grinned down at him. "The sheriff has an interesting deal that he's willing to make with you," he purred, "Since you're so young and..." he paused for a moment to stare at him with a look of pure loathing, "Fragile."

Will glared, forcing a sarcastic half-smile and bowing his head in mock respect. "A deal? Well, you can tell the sheriff that he can take his deals with him to-"

Sir Guy kicked him savagely, the blow landing against his chest and lifting him off the ground, flipping him over onto his back from the sheer force of it and thus hurting even more for the sudden pressure that was applied to the injuries he'd already received. "Enough of that, your sarcasm will only serve to get you into more trouble." Guy snarled, "As I was saying, you could make this stop."

Will tried to stop panting long enough to reply, but his answer still came out as a pained gasp that sounded rather pathetic in comparison to the tone of Sir Guy. "How? If I give him directions to Robins' camp he'll let me off with a hanging?"

Guy wanted to slap himself; this boy was so irritating that it made him want to scream. "All you have to do is agree to one thing." he said venomously.

Will blinked rapidly, his chest still heaving and his breath still ragged. "What would that be?"

"Just agree that you know something."

Will scowled, not understanding. "Agree that I know _what_?"

Gisborn shrugged half heartedly. "Agree that you know a certain Robin Hood isn't the killer, that you know he hasn't killed anyone, that you know where he's going so the sheriff can give him a pardon on that..."

Will huffed in annoyance. "You're just now figuring out he hasn't killed anyone? And why would I tell you where he's going?"

Gisborn glared. "I didn't say the sheriff wants to know where he's going, only that he needs to know that _you _know where he's going."

Will shook his head. "You're lying-"

He was interrupted when Sir Guy nodded and the whip suddenly lashed across his chest, making him scream and flinch, trying to pull away from the contact.

Sir Guy shrugged again, tilting his head a bit and fixing Will with a serious stare. "Whether I'm lying or not isn't for you to decide. However, if you don't want the next ten lashes to fall, regrettably, on your face, then I suggest you do as the sheriff suggested."

Will hesitated, flinching harshly as the next blow whipped across him. The man holding the whip drew back to strike him again, but a surge of fear that sprang from nowhere made him look at Sir Guy again, this time hating him even more than he thought he possibly could. "Fine..." he growled, "I know where he's going. Just don't expect me to actually tell you."

Sir Guy nodded slowly. "I thought you'd see sense." with that he reached down and grabbed Will by the arm and dragged him to his feet. "This boy has admitted to withholding important information from the sheriff of Nottingham. Interrogation will take place immediately."

Will blinked in shock, looking at Sir Guy with a mixture of utter hatred and complete horror. "But you said that-"

Sir Guy grinned roguishly at him. "Withholding information is a crime, surely you knew that."

* * *

Okies, next chapter will lay off the actual banging a bit, mostly it's just mind games and Maid Marion, as well as Robin and that lot and what they're up to. Also, first paragraph of this chapter, I bet you thought it was Will, didn't you? Lol ^?^ But weird things are coming up, as well as INSIGHT INTO THE SHERIFF'S WICKED EVIL PLAN! MUAHAHAA! I've decided that I like writing John...he's fun...^;^


	5. Chapter 5: A Game of Resistence

~Chapter Five: A Game of Resistance, not Respite~

Marian usually walked with confidence, no matter where she was, head held high and an air about her that clearly said she knew exactly what she was doing and didn't worry about anything, didn't need to worry about anything, and had no cause to fear even the worst possibilities of a day. She acted as if all the potential horrors of life couldn't touch her, like she owned her world and nothing in it could harm her unless she allowed it. She put on a mask and pretended to be unphased by anything she saw and, somtimes, let that mask slip just a little bit. Like when she was truly surprised, it might glimmer in her eyes for the barest trace of a moment, no longer than that, and then would return firmly into place. But right now was one of the times she couldn't quite get that mask back where it was supposed to be. In fact, she could hardly speak as she heard Gisbornes' voice talking to her, laced with pride and venom both.

"We've finally captured a member of Robins' little band!" he announced, clearly pleased with himself, "He hasn't put up too much of a fight yet, and we're hoping it stays that way-"

Marian refrained from gasping in surprise, instead looking curiously at Sir Guy, head tilted lightly and a pleased smile dancing across her lips. "Really?" she asked, making sure that her voice made it sound like she was pleased with him, "But which one? Someone important?"

Sir Guy seemed to inflate right before her eyes, glad that he'd managed to impress Marian. Of course, he knew very well that he hadn't single-handedly captured their current prisoner, but it still bore him well that anyone at all had been caught. "I don't know how important he is, my lady," he said nonchalantly, "But it doesn't matter as long as he tells us where Robin is. Besides," he seemed to have an afterthought, "Even if he doesn't tell us, we can always hang him as bait to make Robin come to us."

Marian blinked, giving him a befuddled look. "But don't we already know that Robin is somewhere in Sherwood?"

Sir Guy scoffed. "Yes, but if the boy tells us anything about his whereabouts we can press him a bit harder and perhaps get him to lead us straight to Robins' camp."

Marian nodded slowly, leaning against the wall as she took in what she was being told. She was sure that by 'press' Guy must mean 'torture' and that wasn't a thought she was comfortable with at all. Which one had been captured? If it was Little John she wouldn't have too much to worry about; he could most likely take care of himself. But if it had been one of the younger members of Robins mad little group...she sent up a silent prayer for whoever it was.

Guy coughed quietly and gently grabbed Marians' arm. "You look pale, my lady..." he said, a question ringing in his voice and asking if she was okay.

Marian smiled and shook her head. "I'm fine," she said, "It's just that...the prisoner's going to be tortured, isn't he?"

Sir Guy smirked, drawing Marian into a partial hug and nodding. "Yes, but you must remember, they're fully deserving of everything they get. And they'll be bringing it upon themself by not giving us the answers." he paused in thought for a moment, "And he'll be put out of his misory soon enough, we'll be hanging the poor fool the moment he tells us where Hood is."

Marian tuned him out, concealing a grimace. She knew Robin must be close to hating himself at this point, but then, he was also probably planning a way to rescue whichever of his men had been captured. But then, regardless of whether Robin was coming or not, that didn't stop the man, whoever it was, from being hurt before Robin could get there. Marian had a good bit of influence here, since it was a known fact that Sir Guy fancied her, she might be able to convince the jailer to let her 'talk' to whoever it was and perhaps concoct a scheme of her own to keep them out of trouble a fair bit. Yes, that's what she'd do.

She had to get to the dungeons.

* * *

Will shivered as Ulric came toward him again. He'd long since lost count of how many times the man had approached him, always holding some foul instrument or another. Not that it mattered really, all of them hurt, so why bother paying attention to what they were? He had taken notice, however much he was trying to ignore everything that was happening, that the man seemed intent on avoiding anything vital, and had taken special care not to knock him out at any point. Which meant that there was no chance of escape until Ulric decided it was time to send him back to his cell to wait for more 'interrogation'. He was pretty sure this didn't count as an interrogation, the jailer was only asking him one question, over and over, and that was 'where is Robin'. It was starting to take on a whole new form of monotony.

At first it hadn't been so bad; at least he wasn't being whipped anymore. But Ulric had had a sick smile from the minute Will had entered his field of vision. And the first order of business had been getting the broken leg set back into proper place with about the same amount of gentleness one would show when trying to kill an enemy in battle.

After that Will had been able to keep up his guise of being calm and unafraid for only a few minutes before the deathly array of pain-inflicting devices blocked almost all thoughts from his mind besides those screaming at him to find a way to make this stop. But he was completely at the mercy of Ulric, and nothing was going to change that.

Ulric himself wasn't a scary figure to behold; Will had seen him countless times over the years, and had hated him more and more each time. He was just the jailer, and yet now he had the power to make Will cringe simply by coming near him. Life could take such unfair turns.

Ulric looked up at the sound of someone approaching and turned away, cursing under his breath, to allow them in. Not before flashing a sick wink in Wills' direction. "I'll be right back," he assured, "no need to worry."

Will slumped in the chains that held him in place, wondering how long it would take to convince oneself to either fall into a deep sleep until help came or, for lack of accomplishing that, die. He was running out of options rather quickly, and he'd be damned if he fell for another of Gisbornes' tricks.

"I've come to see the prisoner..."

Will jerked to attention; he knew that voice! It was Marian! Perhaps she'd come to help him? Maybe smuggling him a lock pick or some other device with which to get out of here.

He heard Ulric sniff loudly and grimaced at the sound. "Pardon, my lady, but we're a bit occupied at the moment."

Will smiled softly as he heard Marian sigh loudly; making sure that it was obvious she was annoyed, and speak again. "I have permission from Sir Gisborne to ask the prisoner a few questions of my own. Besides," her tone lowered a notch, "I used to know his master, I might be able to convince him to talk."

Will could almost feel the sick wheels of Ulrics' mind turning before the man came to a conclusion. "Alright, but he's a bit...eh...worked over, y'might say..."

He heard the footsteps approaching, and then, at the edge of his vision, he saw...

His mother?

* * *

Robin breathed deeply, fighting the burning behind his eyes; they were getting close to where it had happened. He was dreading what they would find there, images of all manner of grizzly sorts flaring in his mind with every step. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know how Will had faired, and yet he had to know.

He felt Little John place a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at his friend, blinking and flashing a quick smile. He had to let them believe that he was okay, not that he was trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to Dan, not that he was still trying to work out how long it would have taken for the dogs to kill someone, how much pain they would have inflicted before causing death, trying to figure out how he could believe that it wasn't his fault in the first place.

Little John, on the other hand, was simply trying to cypher what they were going to do if young Will was still alive. After all, he was fairly certain that by now the wound to his leg would be infected, at best, and that he would have been bitten quite a few times by the dogs. In which case, he may or may not be in any condition to be moved. Which meant they'd have to figure out how to help him where he was. And how to get that bloody trap off of him.

Much, who followed shortly behind, was mulling over in his mind exactly how bad it could be, wondering exactly how much blood they were about to discover. He wondered if they'd be able to tell if it belonged to their fallen comrade or the dogs, hoped that Will had managed to get away somehow and save them all the trouble. He felt sick just thinking about it. He hadn't exactly been there when Will had stepped on the trap, so he had no way of knowing how bad the break would be. But he'd heard plenty of stories about broken bones, had had a few of them himself over the years, and he didn't really wish to _see _how bad it was for himself. He hoped that Robin wasn't cursing himself too badly, knowing that Robin would think this was his fault, and wondered if there was anything any of them could have done to stop it from happening.

Behind Much, Roy walked silently, a scowl painted on his face. He didn't know much about Will yet, except that he was a clever little snitch when it came to hiding in the bushes and surprising people with those arrows of his. He also knew that the lad didn't say much, but when he did start talking it was generally only about something he felt strongly about. He'd often wondered if Will even had an opinion about things, and had been proved wrong when Will had adamantly insisted that they help Robin back when the sheriff was taking tongues. He regretted never making an effort to look after the lad, and hoped he'd have another chance, should the boy still be alive.

At the very back of the group, Allan lingered nervously. He'd spent a night in prison with Will and his brother, finding that he liked the both of them quite well. Will was the closest thing he'd had to a friend in a long time, and he wasn't being funny, but he was pretty sure he'd be upset if it turned out that Will had been killed. By a bunch of dogs no less! That would be unfair, if nothing else. He sighed heavily; hoping that they weren't going to find what he thought they were going to.

Robin called for them to stop, looking around carefully. He narrowed his eyes and searched his surroundings with his eyes, taking only a few cautious steps forward at a time. Eventually he stood a bit straighter, making a quiet noise of shock, and ran toward something a few several yards away.

Allan felt his heart skip a beat, nervous curiosity gnawing at him as he ran to catch up with Robin.

There, in front of their leader, surrounded by dark patches of ground and scuffed, torn earth, was an empty bear trap.

* * *

"Leave us alone, please." Marian said, nodding pointedly at the jailer, "I need to discuss something with this prisoner in _private_." she fought the urge to roll her eyes; the jailer was such a nuisance. She could understand why everything was brought downstairs to him, pox upon the world should he ever be allowed upstairs.

He stared at her suspiciously. "But, my lady, I should remain here to-"

Marian scoffed. "I don't think he's going to try and attack me, sir, now leave us."

The jailer blinked, thinking about it, and eventually bowed his head, scuttling out of view through the still-open door.

Marian gazed curiously at the prisoner. She vaguely recognized him, having seen him a few or more times previously. She couldn't quite remember the name, but she was sure she'd seen the lad at least once, somewhere. Searching her memory while looking him up and down several times, she finally realized who he was; Scarlet! Yes, the Scarlet lad, the carpenters' son. He'd been sentenced to a hanging not long ago, been rescued by Robin along with his little brother and that other man. She tsked under her breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

And he was so young as well! Marian looked at him again, resisting the desire to start crooning over him and trying to make everything better; that wouldn't do at all, would it? Instead she gently nudged his shouler, placing one hand under his chin and easing his head up to make him look at her. "Will? Will!" she hissed quietly, shaking him lightly.

His eyes fluttered open a little, revealing two glassy green slits, unfocussed as they opened the rest of the way. His head lolled and he blinked several times, trying to recognize her. "M-mother?"

Marian shook her head, smiling at him reassuringly. "No, Will, it's Marian. Remember?"

Will frowned, eyes drifting listlessly about the room in attempt to understand his surroundings. "But...you sounded like...Marian..." he mumbled, "Who are you?"

Marian winced; she couldn't help him if he was delerious! She tried again, rubbing her thumbs beneath his eyes and trying to make him just a little more alert. "Come on, Will," she said, "I'm trying to help."

Wills' eyes seemed to focus for a moment. "Marian?"

Marian nodded, rubbing a little harder. "That's right, and I'm going to try to help you until Robin gets here, but I need you to do something for me, I need you to-"

Will closed his eyes, breathing hard. "Looked l'ke mother..."

"Yes, yes, I know, but I need you to wake up, okay? You have to get the jailer to leave you alone for a little while, so you're going to have to lie-"

Will groaned quietly, closing his eyes a little more tightly and gasping in pain. "Can't-"

Marian nodded, gripping his shoulders and pushing him back a little. She had to make him listen somehow, otherwise he'd be half-mad by the time Robin arrived to get him out of here! "Will, Will, you have to tell the jailer the way to Robins' camp, but give him fake directions, can you do that?"

* * *

Will sighed as the touch moved from his face to his shoulders, the persistent voice keeping him awake. He'd figured out that it wasn't his mother or Marian he was seeing and hearing; it was just an illusion created by pain. He wished it would go away and leave him alone already, stop telling him things that were meant to help but couldn't possibly work.

"Will, Will, you have to tell the jailer the way to Robins' camp-"

Will knew for a fact it wasn't Marian then; she'd never tell him to do such a thing. Now that he knew that there wasn't really anyone there, he just wanted to go to sleep and forget what was going on for awhile. He wanted to go back to his cell and ignore that stupid guard and curl up in the corner until he was forgotten about. But that wasn't going to happen.

"-But give him fake directions, can you do that?"

He looked up a little at that, trying to make his eyes focus. He didn't know what was going on, but his head felt like that time when he'd been much younger and had accidently gotten into his fathers' cup of ale without knowing what it was. He couldn't think straight, it was like he was surrounded by two of everything. He felt numb one second, pain-riddled the next, flashing between hot and cold, limp and stiff all at the same time.

"Why?" he managed to choke out, the words feeling like sand rubbing against his throat.

The illusion in front of him flickered, dancing before his eyes maddeningly. "So they'll have to go look and make sure, that'll keep the jailer off of you long enough for Robin to come. They won't kill you until they know for sure."

Will let his head droop against his chest; he'd been right, this was hopeless. He sagged against the chains, shutting his eyes against the swirling vision in front of him. "Robin...Robin doesn't k-know..."

The figure seemed to groan in annoyance before speaking again. "Then give me the directions to his camp, so I can tell him you're here."

Will scoffed at that. Did this person really think he was going to tell her the way? But then, if she really wasn't real, it couldn't exactly hurt. And if it turned out she was, then it might do some good. "Y...yes..." he whispered.

The person before him smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing him lightly on the forehead. "Thank you" she breathed in relief. 

* * *

**Okay, so now Marian has to tell Robby that WILL GOT GOT and now we've gotta figure out how to rescue Will from his situation without the sheriff catching Robby. WHAT R WE GONNA DO? XD Sorry for the long wait ^;^ **


	6. Chapter 6: A Look Inside

_~Chapter Six: A look inside~_

_~Dark wings, they are descending.  
See shadows gathering around.  
One by one they are falling,  
Everytime they try to strike us down.~  
Quoth, Within Temptation-Dark Wings_

Rolf wrinkled his nose in dismay as he looked back at the prisoner he was guarding. Not that there was much of a point by now, the jailer had tortured the boy sensless during the past few hours, though Rolf supposed he'd been given a short break during the time he'd had someone in to see him. Now the young outlaw was slumped in the corner of the cell, looking to be right on the edge of passing out. Rolf wondered if he'd told the jailer anything or if the only reason he was so bad off at the moment was _because _he'd kept quiet. It was always a mystery, those prisoners who wouldn't say anything.

Rolf himself figured that if you were going to be tortured for holding your tongue, you may as well give answers quickly so as to be put out of your misery before having to suffer for it. Pride could hang, and him with it, it didn't matter if he didn't have to hurt for very long. His eyes travelled slowly over the silent, crumpled figure in the shadowed cell behind him. If he had said anything, it had taken him a while to do so.

He'd already been whipped earlier that morning, that much Rolf knew for sure. It looked like Ulric had given him another working over with a flail, though, as well as given him a thorough pounding with fists only. After all, Ulric couldn't do too much damage right from the off, it was rather bad for business. No, Ulric liked to cause just enough pain to make a person slightly delerious, that way they might tell him what he wanted to know without meaning to or, even better, without realizing they had done so. It was only if that didn't work that he'd really go after them.

Rolf shuddered and looked straight ahead once more, something uncomfortable tugging at the back of his mind. What was that? He felt like he needed to do something, or like there was something he'd forgotten, but he didn't quite know what it was. Shrugging, he shook his head and turned his thoughts elsewhere. To Emily.

He smiled at the thought of her, the lady he'd met in the market off and on throughout his past year or so here. He'd promised to marry her a few months ago, but wanted to find a ring for her before they were actually married. He'd looked several times for a ring that he could afford and would also be suited to Emily, but hadn't found one yet. It didn't have to be much, didn't even have to be silver, it just had to be a ring. People didn't get married without rings, Rolf thought, it wasn't proper without a ring! Besides, it didn't hurt to be betrothed for a long time, he figured, it would either prove they really loved each other if they managed to wait, or it would annoy Emily and make her find someone else. Either way it would prove whether they were really ready to be married in the first place.

But Rolf was slowly pulled from his thoughts as he felt the familar prick at the back of his neck that meant he was being watched.

By the prisoner in the cell behind him.

* * *

Will blinked tiredly as he slowly journeyed to awareness. He'd been hoping to fall asleep, but supposed he wasn't going to have any such luck. He shook his head, noting that he was back in his cell instead of that _other _place he'd been, the last place he remembered. That was a relief, but then he was also left to wonder how long it would last.

He noted with some concern that some of what had happened seemed blurry, difficult to remember. It was almost as if he'd dreamed the whole thing, _clearly _he hadn't, and had forgotten the dream upon awaking. And things still seemed to have a bit of a dreamscape sort of feel to them. He vaguely recalled being asked questions, though of what nature he could only imagine, as well as being visited by...someone...he had no idea who. It was now only a shadowy figure in the very back of his mind, impossible to identify. He remembered hearing their voice, being asked for information, something important, and...

Oh God, no.

His eyes went wide and he looked up in alarm at the guard outside the cell, panic written in plain detail across his face. He couldn't bring himself to speak for a moment, struggling to find his voice before the guard, seeming to know he was being watched, turned around to face him curiously. Will tried to keep the fear out of his voice, hoping he was wrong in his guess as to what had happened. "Did I..." he started, voice cracking slightly, "Did I tell Ulric anything?"

The guard simply stared at him, blinking in confusion and clearly wondering how on Earth he was supposed to know what had gone on between Will and the jailer. "I don't...I don't know." he said simply, "I wasn't there."

Will sighed and slumped back against the wall, head down and frowning fiercely. "I can't remember..." he muttered, "I can't remember..."

The guard gave him a perplexed look, completely unsure of what to do. He shuffled awkwardly, nervousness evident as he searched for something to say. "Yeah, well, if ya' did tell 'em anything, at least you won't be here for long, and that's good, yeah?"

Will glared at him, annoyed. "How's that supposed to be good, if it means getting hung?"

Rolf shrugged, tossing his head lightly and turning his attention straight ahead. "Well," he said, "It means that Ulric won't be 'avin' at you again, that's one good thing."

The disbelieving stare Rolf could feel being directed at him told him that that hadn't been the right thing to say. At all.

* * *

"Will!"

"I'm not bein' funny, but how do you know he's even here?"

Ignoring Allans' question, Robin continued turning his head this way and that, hands cupped at his mouth and shouting the youngest outlaws' name every few moments, pausing in between yells to listen for a reply. It hardly seemed prudent to Allan for them to be tromping about the forest looking for Will when, clearly, he'd been injured the last time Robin had seen him and, as a result, might not even be awake at the moment. And another thing was bothering him besides that; the trap itself. If even Little John couldn't open it- and he obviously hadn't been able to, having mentioned several times late one night that if he'd _only tried a little harder_...- then it was hardly likely that Will had managed to open it and escape at any point during the attack he'd endured. Allan highly doubted that one of the soldiers had opened the trap; they'd be more likely to either ignore Will entirely, seeing that he couldn't exactly go anywhere and was in the middle of being ripped apart- Allan shuddered at the thought- by dogs, meaning that he wasn't worth their while anyway. That or they would have given him a quick stab and left him lying there.

Or they could have taken him.

Allan dearly hoped that wasn't the answer; he remembered his last trip to the dungeons, and it hadn't been in the least bit pleasent. He couldn't imagine anyone lasting very long in there with a broken leg and who knew how many wounds from dogs that may or may not have even been clean at the time of biting or scratching to begin with. And it would be cold, as well as filthy. An open wound could become infected in a snap in such conditions.

But there were still other ways that the trap could have reached the point of being open, such as the small possibility of being broken by one of the dogs. That was a hopeful prospect, one that Allan hoped he could believe. It would have been difficult, obviously, but it could be done. An object like the axe that Will was equipped with would have been to risky to use for opening of the trap, as it would only serve to jar the wound even more and possibly result in further injury, so one would have to be rather desperate to employ such means of escape. A dog, however, wouldn't care. A dog wouldn't mind pounding the device with as much force as it could muster, if the trap was in any way blocking its attempts to kill or, rather, severely maul the person said trap was attached to.

Not that it mattered, any case left Will alone and probably bleeding to death, either in the forest or in a dungeon. Allan just didn't think it was worth their time to go about shouting for someone when odds were Will would have passed out mere hours after escaping the trap in the first place. He also didn't like being ignored.

"Oy, Robin-"

Robin turned, brushing past him with a faint glare and shaking his head. "Will!"

Much, Little John, and Roy were all doing much the same thing, although there was little to no organization about any of it. More just aimless wandering and screaming as loudly as they could while gazing about and hoping to catch sight of their lost gang member. It all seemed rather...pointless...and Allan couldn't quite shake the feeling. It wasn't as if he didn't want them to find Will, he really did and he couldn't imagine _not _finding him at some point or another, just something didn't feel right about all of this.

Robin gave a frustrated growl, clenching his hands into fists and allowing his arms to drop to his sides while he threw his head back with an exasperated expression, reaching up and running his hands through his hair rather hard before looking at the other members of the gang. "He can't have gotten far!" he gasped, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself rather than them.

John nodded encouragingly, eyes sparking with determination as he brushed past Roy and continued the search, seeming to mentally correct himself ocasionally and changing course, realizing that he kept walking the same short paths again and again, to no avail.

Much, however, didn't seem quite so sure. "Master, he isn't here. Shouldn't we get back to-"

Allan almost felt his jaw drop, eyes widening slightly as he took in exactly what Much was saying. "What? An' come back later?" he raised an eyebrow, "What, did a tree branch fall on your head? We can't just leave him for however long that'd take!"

Roy leaned against a tree, crossing his arms and giving a slight nod of his head. He'd also noticed that something was a bit off with this situation. "Don't even know which direction he went." he said, shrugging faintly, "No tracks. No trail of blood to follow. Nothing."

Ah, that was it! Allan cursed himself for not pinpointing it earlier. Of course that was what was wrong, nobody could come from or go anywhere without leaving some sort of sign unless they were either being careful or had serious skills at remaining undetected. In this case, there was absolutely nothing. Even crawling would have left blood on the ground. He looked to Robin for an answer, noting that the others were doing the same, bearing various expressions of bemusement and curiosity.

Robin sighed heavily, perhaps knowing in some way what must have happened, for lack of evidence pointing in any other direction than that the soldiers must have taken Will. But even that suggestion was riddled with error; it seemed pointless for them to waste their time in capturing Will when they knew perfectly well that Robin was the goal they were after. And there had been several of them; not all of them would have had to go back to the castle anyway; it would have only taken two or three to get one prisoner there, the others could have kept after Robin and the rest of the gang. So it was still very uncertain. "I don't know." he finally said, looking around one more time. "It's only been four days, he can't be far from here if he did escape. If not..."

He broke off abruptly, jerking to attention as he spotted something in the trees just over the shoulder of Much. He reached back and drew an arrow, fitting it to his bowstring quickly and bringing the weapon to full draw, attention fixated on the figure in the near distance. The action drew the attention of the others, and they spun about, bringing weapons to the ready, as the figure stepped into the open. It was noneother than-

* * *

"We are getting nowhere. I don't see why we can't just hang him, that would bring Robin running if it was announced." Gisborne stood near the door of the sheriffs' chamber, hands clasped behind his back and a bored, if somewhat confused, expression on his face. He didn't see why they had to be bothered going through all of this...show...they were putting on. It made no sense to him, why not just torture the prisoner, if that was their goal, instead of first making him commit the crimes which should lawfully earn said torture? Better yet, why couldn't they just kill him? It wasn't as if they were telling Robin that one of his men was being put through such things. At least if they announced that they were going to hang him they'd most likely get a shot at capturing Robin himself.

The sheriff, however, seemed to have other ideas entirely. He sat at a small table, head tilted to one side as he listened to Gisborne. He seemed to roll his eyes, making Gisborne bristle inwardly at the gesture. "There is a purpose," he said slowly, gratingly, "It just takes time."

Gisborne sighed in irritation. "Perhaps if I knew that purpose I could make it take less time?"

The sheriff shook his head, smiling lightly before picking up a goblet and taking a deep draft, only speaking after repeating the process multiple times. "If we hang the lad, of course Robin will come running. He'll either rescue the boy and humiliate me for a second time, or he'll fail in the attempt. But odds are he'll talk the entire time, and every word that comes out of his mouth will make the people fall further and further into his trap, even if they do think he's a murderer. They'll start to believe in him again, after all he _is _saving an innocent young youth, yes?" he paused, waiting for a response.

Gisborne nodded a moment later, unsure of where the sheriff was going. "I suppose..."

Vasey smiled again, this time with a gleeful appearance, genuine whereas the other had simply been for the purpose of patronizing. "But this way, we get them all. The people will have no reason to believe that our prisoner doesn't deserve everything that is done to him, while Robin can do nothing about it but come directly into the castle, if he even realizes that the boy has been captured. And even our little nuisance will serve a purpose-"

Gisborne lifted an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly in surprise. "What would that be?"

Vasey shot him a glare, rolling his eyes once more and making a vague gesture to say that it should be obvious. "By forcing him to commit crimes that merrit pain of any sort, we become his gods. Eventually we'll have him doing anything for us, if only to avoid being tricked into hurting himself further. And that means that he can easily be convinced that our control over him is absolute; we can do as we please with him no matter how safe he thinks that he is-" he looked at Gisborne to see if he was following. He was.

"And then, if we still don't have Hood by then, we release him. On the condition that he act as our spy."

The sheriff nodded, smile still in place. "Exactly."

* * *

**Sense the evil laugh, right? WELLLLL, now you know what mean ol' sheriff is up to! Yeppo yeppo,**

** SO. Now you get to worry over this; am I seriously going to make Will turn against Robin and Co. instead of Allan A Dale? Also, WHO the heck has just arrived in Sherwood? Is it Marian, come to confirm what the group suspects? Or is it...*Dun dun dun duuun* SOMEONE ELSE? Also, you can guess that dear ol' Rolf is kind of important since we've begun to delve into his personal life. There's a lot to think about now (I hope) and I'd love to hear any theories that you guys have about what might be going to happen; just factor in the fact that I've already said the tags play a part (Gaaaw at that scene *Feels all fluffy now*) and the new knowledge of the sheriffs' wicked plan. **

**FUN FACT: I couldn't think of a name for Rolfs' beloved (Emily) and I didn't want to pick a random one off a naming site. SO I employed the naming method that involves COMBINING NAMES TO MAKE A REAL ONE. So I was listening to music at the moment, Evanescence to be precise. So I combined the lead singers' names, Amy and Lee, to get Emily. Gawsh I'm sooooo pathetic lol ^?^ **

**Also, I realized my epic fail; I made mention of a "Camp" in an earlier chapter (Four, I think...) and that was total error. Please brush that off as sarcasm on Wills' part. And yes, I'm making him all sarcastic (Kinda like Alex Rider...I think...) because he's not feeling well and really just wants to be alone. And Marian is only trying to help because she's cross with Robin for letting Will get captured in the first place. SO, now all of my epic fails (That have come to my attention) have been explained so...moving on...**

**QUESTION TIME! If you could ask any character from the show any question, what would it be (Shyness not being a factor) **

**As for me, I'd ask Robin where on earth he got a tanktop. XD **


	7. Chapter 7: Where do we go From Here?

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~Chapter Seven: Where do We Go From Here?~

Will gave a quiet sniff of dismissal after staring at Rolf for several seconds. It didn't matter. He wouldn't let it bother him. Although, Rolf had made things sound rather...matter of fact. That he was going to die, and lucky for the fact as well. He wasn't exactly eager to be on the receiving end of a pounding from Ulric again, but finding solace in the fact that he'd be killed if he had said anything important was a bit much, he thought. That brought another problem to the forefront; now he'd have to hope that he was going to see Ulric again rather soon, because that would mean that he hadn't said anything that he, or rather Robin, would regret. And wishing for ones' own harm felt...wrong...

Supressing a shudder, he mentally checked for injuries from his last encounter. His back was sore, and he could feel blood drying from the two whippings he'd taken. Other than that he noticed several bruises, probably from Ulric punching him so many times and laying about him with various objects designed to inflict copious amounts of pain when brought in contact with flesh. He also still felt light-headed and dizzy, almost like he was floating. He guessed that he'd been hit in the head a few times, mostly nothing to worry about. That would also explain why he thought he'd seen either his mother or Marian. And if whoever that was really had been just a figmant of his imagination, then he really had nothing to worry about. If it hadn't been, then he didn't know what to think. He had given them directions that would lead them almost straight to Robin, after all...

~_Flashback~ _

_He couldn't believe he was doing this, but it could hardly do any more damage than had already been done. Taking a deep breath, he glanced briefly into the eyes of the hazy figure in front of him and began in a voice only a little louder than a whisper. _

_"No camp..." he muttered, "Not a...real one...anyway...We have a food storage, but..." he paused, choking lightly and shivering as pain shot through his injured leg, "We n...never stay in one place for...very long..."_

_He heard the person before him mutter something that sounded almost like an oath of annoyance before she spoke. "Then why waste time refusing to tell the location of something that doesn't exist? It would be wiser on your part to simply tell the jailer that there is no camp."_

_Will closed his eyes, wincing at the tone of voice. It wasn't his fault that Robin thought that other people should think that he was organized enough to have a proper camp set up. Really, though, he didn't think it would do very badly if they did have a real camp, oneday. For now simple temporary campsites had to suffice. "I...don't know...where he is..." he said slowly, "But I kn...know where...he's going." _

_The listener placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and prompting him to speak faster. Her voice was rushed and whispered, urgency dripping from her words. "Very well then, tell me!" she hissed, "I don't know how long we have..."_

_He hesitated, breath quickening as he prepared to actually give away the information that could either bode well for him, or terrible for Robin. After all, if someone other than this phantom- or whatever it actually was- heard what he was about to say, they'd know exactly where to go to head Robin off. And that could put the whole group in danger. "He...he's going to Nettlestone...I don't know how long he'll stay...but he'll be there..."_

_He opened his eyes, blinking at the blurry figure of whoever was standing in front of him. She seemed relieved, really, and also a little annoyed. She leaned close, whispering again. "Thank you. I'll find him as quickly as I can. Just, try to stay alive until then?"_

_His head dropped against his chest and he heard her turn to leave, but couldn't let her go without one question. He had a feeling it had been answered before, but couldn't recall what the answer itself had been. "Who are you?" he asked softly._

_There was no reply, only the distant sound of footsteps walking away before there was another sound, footsteps walking toward him, and all else was a blur as Ulric began his game again._

~End of Flashback~

Will shook his head rapidly, determined not to relive even a moment of what had taken place once Ulric had started on him again. He remembered the use of several different impliments, ranging from a solid, thick cane that reminded him of Little John, to a stick of metal and a horsewhip as well. He wasn't sure if the marks would go away, but was fairly certain that thinking about it wasn't going to aid the process any. Heaving a deep sigh and taking his focus away from the pain that seemed to envelope his entire back, as well as his left leg, he looked around the floor for his discarded carving and the bit of metal he'd been using to do so.

"Oy, it's over there." Rolfs' voice called, making him jump lightly before glancing at the guard in recognition. The man was pointing to a spot that was, mercifully, not too far away. He, Rolf, flashed a shy smile and nodded toward it, "You...you dropped it when you fell asleep."

Will nodded and, wincing, tried to squirm a bit closer to the object. His shoulders seemed to be the most sore, as his arms had been secured above his head for the duration of Ulrics'...he wouldn't think about that...and he found that if he didn't move his leg very much, the level of pain didn't seem to go up. He slowly picked up the wood and metal, panting slightly with effort, and realized to his dismay that the fact that the break had been set didn't mean that it was healed. Or that it was healing. But he wasn't going to waste time looking to see how bad it was; he already knew it was bad, and there was nothing he could do about it anyway so he may as well not bother.

He took several deep, steadying breaths and began to carve again. He knew what he was making this time, something to think about. That way when he got out of here Robin wouldn't think he'd been sitting idle in prison doing absolutely nothing useful whatever. Well, maybe this wasn't useful, but it was something. He wouldn't be able to finish this type of project until he escaped, but it was still a definite goal to work toward, finishing this little token.

He could feel Rolf watching him and he looked up again, meeting the gaze and noticing that Rolf seemed...disturbed...slightly, by what, Will had no idea. He blinked slowly, frowning. "What?" he finally asked, wanting to say something more but feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him.

Rolf scowled. "Nothin', just...what're you carving?" he raised an eyebrow, "It's not a lockpick, is it?"

Will scoffed and shook his head again, holding up the bit of wood, which he was working on smoothing and shaping into an oval-type form. "No," he said, "It's a tag." he supposed that there was no harm in telling Rolf that much, at least. And it had always brought a sense of pleasure, talking about whatever it was he was making. He remembered several times showing his father mangled bits of wood, the expression on Dans' face as he tried to work out what exactly they were supposed to be, and then the happiness that had shown through whenever a project went well. "Won't be able t...to copy it, when it's...finished..."

Rolfs' scowl deepened and he turned to actually face Will. "They given you any water yet?"

Will scraped the metal carefully against the wood, looking away from the now-obviously worried guard. "No...?" were they supposed to? He was a prisoner, not a guest. They weren't supposed to give him anything.

Rolf nodded knowingly. "You sound like it." he said, "You've been here for what, four or five days now? They're gonna kill you, not lettin' you have any water or anything..." he paused for a moment, thinking it over, "They should have given you some by now," he said finally, "I'll see what I can do."

Will huffed, wondering whether to smile or glare. "Weren't you just saying it's better to die?"

The guard snorted. "No," he replied, "It's better to just tell them what they want to know and be released alive, or at the very least killed quickly, by hanging. Not keep secrets and wind up tortured until you can't hold on any longer and die anyway."

Will went back to carving, feeling annoyance rising. "Also better not to die a traitor..." he muttered.

The older man gave an irritated sniff, looking straight ahead and seeming to shrug a little. "Why is it you outlaws, who can't seem to find any loyalty toward law itself, try to be so loyal to one another? Why die so the others like you can keep stealing and whatever else it is that they do, instead of getting over yourselves and paying taxes like every other man, serving your betters and turning outlaws in instead of having to end up like..." he gestured vaguely at Will, "Well, like you are now?"

Will looked up at him at a snails' pace, though Rolf noticed that his eyes weren't narrowed out of anger, but weariness. "Why is it you nobles...who can't find any loyalty to anything but yourselves...can't find any loyalty toward the people you live among?" he retorted, "Why kill commoners with your taxes...why force them to steal and lie...just so every man will have to pay you...every scrap that he owns...until he can't feed his own family...and then you punish him for trying to help...when it's you and your kind who make him what he is?"

Rolf rolled his eyes, flashing Will a sarcastic smile. "Me? I'm no noble." he said quietly, "Far from it...what, you think every man who guards a cell is a taxing rich man?"

Will shrugged, giving up carving and laying the wood to the side. "You think everyone who's...inside a cell...is a criminal?"

Rolf chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief and looking down for a moment. "Why do you insist on being so difficult, even when no one's trying to fight you?" he asked.

Will closed his eyes for a long moment, ignoring Rolfs' words.

The guard went on, oblivous to Will, who seemed about to drift off again. "Wouldn't it be better for you to just give them all the answers, go free? Or do you plan to let them have their way with you until you either die or find a way to escape?"

Well, finding a way to escape was actually slightly out of the question. He could only hope that he really had spoken to Marian and that she was on her way to find Robin. But Robin had saved him once, and he wasn't sure he had the right to expect the same favour again. "The sheriff killed my mother," he half-whispered, "If I tell him anything, death isn't good enough a punishment."

Rolf stiffened, glaring lightly. "You say that now, but give it a few days. Every man breaks eventually. You outlaws aren't any different. You'll be begging to tell him more than what he wants to know before the end, and he'll only laugh. I've seen it before, more than once. And when he's finished with you, it won't be guilt that makes you beg for death. You'll just want to forget the look on his face while he's prying your secrets away. I don't think you'll last a full seven days once he really gets started. And God help you if he thinks you know more than what you're saying..."

Will frowned slightly, but didn't want to risk opening his eyes at the moment, as the world seemed to be swimming around him as Rolf spoke. "Is that a threat?" he asked softly.

Rolf shook his head, sighing hard. "No, no it's not a threat..." he muttered, "It's a warning. Sir Gisborne's coming this way...and he has the sheriff with him."

* * *

_He broke off abruptly, jerking to attention as he spotted something in the trees just over the shoulder of Much. He reached back and drew an arrow, fitting it to his bowstring quickly and bringing the weapon to full draw, attention fixated on the figure in the near distance. The action drew the attention of the others, and they spun about, bringing weapons to the ready, as the figure stepped into the open. It was noneother than-_

One of the very soldiers he'd been wondering about. It was a new recruit, it seemed, and they stared for nearly a full thirty seconds before they called to others. They must have followed Robin as far as they could, and then doubled back around for an ambush here. They'd been clever; they'd known, somehow, that Robin and his men would come back in search of their fallen comrade. Robin swore quietly as the first of the mans' companions became visible. He looked at the others, a question in his eyes.

_Run, or fight? _

John gripped his staff more tightly, but shook his head in warning. They didn't know how many soldiers there were. But if Robin wanted to fight, at least this time they had a want to pay back what had happened to Will on their side.

Much backed away a little, moving closer to Robin and giving him a wary look. "Master..." he'd fight, if Robin made him, but he wasn't sure about this. At all.

Roy growled quietly. He wasn't sure, but he thought that if he paid enough attention he could take out a good ten or so, and he knew first hand that John was good at fighting...if they all tried hard enough, surely they could manage! It was worth a go, it had to be.

Allan glowered at the soldiers. He wasn't sure what part they'd played in all of this, but they definately worked for the sheriff, and that made them enemies in any case. It was their fault Will had been hurt to begin with. And that meant that knocking a few of them about would feel good. Maybe too good. At the moment, he wasn't sure he'd mind killing them.

Robin felt the weight of indesicion descend heavily. He wanted to fight, but knew it would be far more sensible to run. If they reached Nettlestone without further injury, they might be able to find a way to prove that Robin hadn't killed anyone. And that would get the dogs called off, he hoped anyway. And, if they weren't being chased, they'd be able to find out what exactly had...oh...but then there was another idea.

He needed a prisoner.

Why run or fight, why not fight long enough to capture one man, and then run?

He reached his conclusion as the men started to come within reach. He replaced the arrow into his quiver and slung the bow over his back, reaching instead for his sword. This sent a message to the rest of his men.

It was time to fight for their lives.

* * *

Will didn't know exactly what to do as the sheriff came into view. He wanted to fight, to yell at him about all of the injustices and how he, the sheriff, had killed more people than King Richard had thought of. But then, there was something about the sheriff. He'd never seen the man this close before. He was almost...frightened.

Sir Guy was the same as ever, mostly nonchalant, as if this was just another task for him to complete. It didn't matter in the slightest. He gazed curiously at Rolf, eyes sparking with poison. "Speaking to someone, Vard?" he asked softly, "You haven't been getting friendly with outlaws?"

Rolf shook his head nervously, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. "No sir...just...telling him to quiet down, stop whining...sir."

Will felt slightly sick at Rolfs' tone. What was wrong with him? He didn't remember Rolf acting like this, or saying anything, the last time Sir Guy had come. This was strange...something was different this time...but what?

The door to the cell was opened and Will barely had time to register the fact that Gisborne had entered before he was being dragged to his feet, pulled out of the cell and into the open. For a moment he was afraid that he was going to be dumped at the feet of the sheriff, made to kneel before the man like a cowering servant. That wasn't something he was ready for, or would ever be ready for. Instead of that, however, Sir Guy held him upright while the sheriff leered down at him.

He hated this man more than he'd thought, he realized.

The sheriff tsked softly, looking Will up and down and running a gloved hand along his face. "Did Gisborne have them hit you too hard, lad?" he asked, "Or was it Ulric? I do hope you're feeling up to answering questions now, so you won't have to go through all of that again..."

Will gagged at the false sympathy dripping from Vaseys' voice. This man was...wrong. He couldn't tell what it was, but there was something undeniably sick about him. He glared up at him, still feeling rather dizzy and faint, but not about to let it show. "I won't tell you anything..."

Vasey laughed and motioned for Gisborne to move, making the world spin horribly as Gisborne began to half carry half drag Will down the short hall to...that room. He groaned inwardly. He hadn't expected to arrive back here so soon, when it felt like he'd only just gotten out. Or maybe he hadn't...maybe it had been a long time...he was already forgetting.

The lights grew steadily more dim the further into the room they went, eventually reaching a state of almost pitch black. He felt the ground move from beneath his feet and suddenly he was lying facedown on something hard. Wooden. A table, it felt like. Trying to see what was going on was useless, but he could feel his arms being jerked out in front of him, rope securing him firmly in place. And he could feel someone close. Too close. The slight tingling sensation of someone so close to him that they were practically touching him, the smell of their clothing all too noticible. And it wasn't Gisborne, that would be mostly leather. No, this was the sheriff. Why did he have to be so close if he was only asking questions? What was he doing? And why was he prowling around in such a slow, steady circle.

"You think you're going to be brave again, don't you, lad?" the sheriffs' voice purred, "And you also think that you're not going to say a word, or make a sound, and you're just going to...I don't know, do you think someone's coming to rescue you eventually?" he asked, "Or do you suppose you're going to die as a lovely little martyr for Robins' cause? Is that what you think?"

Will felt his breath quicken slightly as he felt the sheriffs' hand on his back, tracing still more slow circles, running delicately over the welts left by the earlier punishments inflicted there. It was creating a sort of paranoia. What was he trying to do, scare Will into telling him everything without having to get his hands dirty actually doing anything to him? But no, his voice clearly said that he was the type of person who enjoyed inflicting pain. His actions said the same. Whatever he was doing, it was going to hurt.

The sheriff spoke again, this time his face only a few inches away from Wills', clamping one hand down on the back of Wills' neck. "What's that, can't speak? Is your heart racing already?" he scoffed loudly, as if this was all some sort of joke, "are you really going to make it so easy?" he paused for several seconds, voice taking on a bribing tone, "Since you're so terrified already-"

Will pulled at the ropes holding him down; he was _not _frightened! Not of the sheriff, not for whatever was about to happen. The sheriff was just trying to make him think he was, to convince him that he was, indeed, terrified. Trying to make him think that everything he'd said to Rolf and thought to himself was a lie. Trying to show off. But Will wasn't afraid, couldn't be...

The sheriffs' voice suggested a smile. "Oh, and you still disagree..." he laughed, "But, since you are scared, even if you won't admit it, I'll give you one chance. Just one more chance...if you don't take it, we'll see how long you last afterwards...Tell me where Robin is going, and-"

Will growled and tried again to break free, only to gasp in shock when the sheriffs' grip on the back of his neck tightened, sending lances of pain up and down his spine.

The sheriff tsked again and stood up, maintaining his grip for a moment before running a hand down Wills' back, making a faint purring sound. "I suppose I'll take that as a no," he said cheerfully, "But I'm also going to assume there's a reason you can't find anything to say."

There was a moment of silence and Will could swear he heard his own heart beating out a rapid rhythm against his chest.

The sheriff clapped loudly, making Will jump. "Ah! Well, there's no further cause for delay. Ulric!"

Ulric? Will hadn't even realized that the jailer was in the room, but here he was. He'd recognize that loud breathing anywhere. Like trying to wake the dead, it was. And the feeling of those cold, clammy hands against his hand as Ulric taunted him, laughing nervously at the sheriff. "Sir?" the man asked.

Will shuddered, but closed his eyes. There was no way out of this. He couldn't fight it. Might as well not worry about it. Fear wasn't going to get him anywhere. But the sheriffs' next words nearly sent him over the edge.

"Hold him down, Ulric; I don't think a little rope is going to be enough..."

Will almost choked as he felt a sudden weight on top of him, pinning him in place and forbidding him all but the smallest motion. And it hurt. Ulric was leaning forward slightly, his hands on Wills' shoulders, pressing into the still-bloody welts left partly by his own administrations. The man was sitting on him, pressing most of his own weight toward each of Wills' shoulders, and one knee on either side would keep writhing to a minimum. Will cringed, squirming slightly in attempt to get Ulric off of him, but all that did was make the grip tighten. He felt like he was being choked, almost. He hated this almost more than the beatings he'd taken. Already wanting to scream, he tried a little harder. He didn't like this...not at all...he felt totally helpless, pinned down in such a way. And he couldn't see, it was so dark. They could do anything to him...anything at all...he could barely supress a whimper at the thought, trying, even, to pull himself forward, even though that would bring him closer to the sheriff. Anything to get Ulric _off_...

The sheriff chuckled again, ruffling Wills' hair almost fondly. "Really?" he chided, "That's all it takes? Oh now I almost feel bad about this...don't I sound torn by whether to continue or not, what with you on the verge of tears already? A clue: no. Gisborne, go ahead. It isn't as if he's going anywhere."

Gisborne seemed to sigh from somewhere on Wills' left, and it wasn't long before Will felt the mans' hand against his side, gripping the hem of his tunic and pulling the fabric up. What was he doing? It couldn't possibly be another lashing, not with Ulric on top of him like he was...what was this? He realized a moment later that it wasn't just the cold touch of leather that he felt against his back, it was also metal. Sharp metal. It was a knife, and Gisborne was moving it toward a place between Wills' shoulder blades, eventually penetrating, making a thin trail of blood start to work its way down.

Will jerked lightly as the knife bit deeper, cutting into him and eventually making him try to pull away. He didn't understand what was happening. Why go through all the trouble of...well..everything...if they were simply going to stab him to death? And it certainly felt like death was coming if the knife went any further...But then it came to a stop for a moment and Will relaxed, noticing for the first time exactly how tense he'd gotten. Was this all they were doing? Stabbing him just enough to hurt as many times as they could before running risk of him bleeding to death? But no...that wasn't right, the knife was still in place...he yelped as the knife was jerked downward about three inches, ripping a tear that was sure to leave a permanent scar, considering how deep it was. The next cut went the other direction, going about one and a half inches across, overlapping the other.

Gisborne sighed and pressed down on his arm with one hand, withdrawing the knife from the wound and moving it over slightly before cutting again, equally as deeply. Will couldn't help but scream at the next cut, one that seemed to go on forever before Gisborne removed the knife. The one after brought an equally as agonized scream, and even more attempt to somehow escape. Then next was fairly quick, even painless comared to the others, and after came one like the first, and after that none of it made sense. It was only a continuous pattern of meaningless stabbing and cutting, an ongoing scream and struggle to get away from Ulric, from Gisborne, from whoever was inflicting the most pain at any given moment, and the sickening realization that yes, he was terrified. So terrified that he couldn't even begin to know how to describe it.

He was hardly aware when it stopped, unaware that he wasn't moving anymore but rather lying limp, shaking. He was aware, however, and only too aware, when the sheriffs' breath brushed against his face, the mans' thumbs rubbing under his eyes and forcing him to look into the mans' taunting gaze. He felt the voice, more than heard it. And it terrified him more than anything else.

"You don't know it yet," the voice purred, "But you'll live up to it for me. I'm going to make sure of that."

* * *

**So I got a comment from my beta (Who doesn't want her name disclosed) that it kind of sounded for a little like some no-no was about to go on (She thought I was going to play off of the "Robin rescues Will Stutely" thing, the one where he and the sheriff are..um...well you prolly know. So I apologize if you were worried, I really do. But I don't write that kind of thing and the most you have to worry about is what the hell Gisborne just did to Wills' back. (Poor baby *Huggle* anyway, it would have been longer, but I've gotta go now because me mum is shrieking at me to GO TO BED ALREADY because it's late (Like, really late) so I'll wind up now and leave off with NEXT CHAPTER CONTAINS EXTREME FIGHT SCENE! OH YEAH! Get to see some tingy-twirlin' from the merry men. Lesse, John's got a staff, Roy has a club, Allan has a sword, MUCH has a sword, and Robin has a sword. but that doesn't mean that dirty street tricks won't be employed...mUAHAHAHAA! And no, this isn't mindless torture. I know exactly how it's going to end lol ^;^ Just wait, alright? It gets better ^;^ **


End file.
